Once upon a time there was an island. This island was a dark, gloomy place; the sky was forever filled with black clouds that showered the land with rain, day after day, week after week, month after month; the wind forever blew, the air was forever chilled, and the sun never shone.
On this island lived a strange population of people. They were sad people, pale people; people who lacked vital vitamins and who had forgotten what it was like to feel the sun’s rays on their ashen faces. These people were sad.
The grown-ups amongst these sad people were particularly anxious: a time was fast approaching when their children and their children’s children would be released from their places of learning for many weeks, and would expect to be entertained by outdoor pursuits. The grown-ups were fearful that there weren’t enough indoor play areas, or National Trust properties, or leisure centres that might provide suitable diversion for their restless offspring.
The island’s leaders were distressed, too, for the island was playing host to a sizeable sporting event that required being outside in the air and under the dark clouds, and they were concerned that these dark clouds and incessant inclemency would create some problems.
Distressed, too, were the island’s farmers, who were trying to provide food for the people of the island, but the dark clouds and driving rain made this quite difficult.
So the people of the island were in a very bad state indeed. They were sad, pale, and ailing, because the darkness and moisture had consumed their souls, their hearts, and their minds. In fact, some of them had shrunk to half their size due to being in a constant state of dampness.
But then something strange happened. One Friday evening, the dark clouds parted to reveal a blueness that was so blue, a lot of people didn’t know what to do about it, and started reconsidering their previous knowledge of what it means to be blue. Then, as if that wasn’t peculiar enough, a very bright orb appeared in the blue, which was so bright that those people who looked directly at it were irretrievably blinded and spent the rest of their days in blackness; but for the majority of the people who didn’t look directly at the bright orb, it was a time of tremendous celebration: it meant that the days of darkness were, for now, over.
And the little men and women who told the people of the island what the outside was going to be like, no longer predicted this:
And instead predicted this:
Which made everyone on the little island very happy indeed, and they went about with springs in their steps, smiles on their faces, and nothing bad ever happened again.
- Becky says things about … the Great British summertime (beckysaysthings.wordpress.com)
- Rain, Rain, Go Away. (calmyourbeans.wordpress.com)